


Spared

by ThrowTheDice



Series: Cat and Mouse [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrowTheDice/pseuds/ThrowTheDice
Summary: Written in response to a prompt from someone-who-is-there on tumblr"Michael Myers sparing your life after killing everyone around you prompt maybe? NSFW if you do not mind writing that, too. :)"This trial is different than the others, Michael is done playing cat and mouse with you.





	Spared

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not the first to do something like this, but here's my interpretation of the trope. This is crossposted on my tumblr as well.

This wasn’t your first time in Haddonfield. Actually, as of late, the Entity had seemed particularly fond of setting you loose in the nightmarish neighborhood streets. You were now intimately familiar with the eerie glow of the street lamps and the flashing lights of the unoccupied and inoperable police cruiser. However, this time was not like the others. This time you had begun the trial with a strange crushing feeling in your chest, not unlike a cold vice wrapped around your heart. You had had this feeling described to you by other survivors, and it was never a good sign.  
You found yourself in the unique position of obsession.  
You supposed that you should have known this was coming. You had been eluding the Shape again and again, trial after trial for much longer than was probably reasonable. Everytime he was close to finally catching and killing you, you managed to escape. Hopping down the hatch, slipping through the gates just in time, dropping pallets on him when his reaching hand was mere inches from you. Last time, you had used a little trick Laurie had taught you, taking a shard of glass you had tucked away into your waistband and jabbing it into his shoulder, giving you just enough time to slip away. You were sure that for a killer as prolific as he was your continued escapes must have been infuriating.  
You had admittedly begun to enjoy the repeated game of cat and mouse the two of you were playing. The rush of adrenaline you got when you saw that familiar mask staring back at you was exhilarating, and you secretly loved the way your heart pounded when you heard his heavy breathing behind you as he chased you through the streets. These were things you would never admit to another survivor. Hell, you had a hard enough time admitting it to yourself.  
This time though, you didn’t feel that familiar rush as you realized where you were. You hadn’t seen him yet, but you knew who the killer was. As you crouched beside a generator, you felt more tense than you had going into a trial in a long time. You felt like you were on the edge of something. This time was most certainly different, and it wasn’t just because it was your first time as the obsession. There was some energy in the air, and it crackled through your mind and body.  
You were barely halfway done with repairing the generator when you heard the first scream in the night air. It was not the scream of someone being put on the hook, it was a final dying shriek, a warning sent out into the night to let other prey know that a predator was here and they were looking to kill. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and goosebumps covered your arms.  
You continued to look over your shoulder every few seconds, looking for a flash of white or the glint of a blade. You felt relief wash over you as Claudette emerged from around the side of the house. You gave her a nod as she came closer and began to help with repairs.  
“He killed Nea,” she whispered to you. “We didn’t even see him coming, he just pulled her off the generator and killed her.”  
“I’m the obsession,” you admitted quietly.  
She gave you a pitying look. If he was already being this brutal with his kills, you both wondered what was in store for you.  
“Who else is left?” You asked. You felt bed, but you hoped it was Laurie. She was crafty and more than capable of escaping him, but more than that they had encountered each other before the Entity’s realm, and Michael always took the time to hunt her down. That might just give you and Claudette enough time to finish the generators and open the gates.  
“I think it’s Jake,” she responded.  
So much for that plan, you thought bitterly.  
Just as the two of you were finishing up your repairs, you heard the tell-tale sound of another generator starting up a ways away. Jake must have finished the generator Nea and Claudette had been working on before. Not long after your generator clicked on, however, you heard that same horrible scream you had before. Frozen fear flooded through your veins and you shared a terrified look with Claudette.  
Too soon, it was all too soon. The trial had barely just begun and already you were the final two survivors. You hadn’t even seen the Shape yet.  
The two of you split off in different directions. There really was no safety in numbers here. You slipped into a house, conscious of the aged wooden floor beneath your feet and any sounds it may make. With your heart in your throat, you made your way up the stairs, hoping to find a generator in one of the rooms on the second story.  
Much to your relief, you found one and got to work. You could only hope that Claudette was doing the same. That would mean that the two of you only had one more to complete before you could make your escape and forget all about the strange feeling you had had all trial. You tried to calm the trembling of your fingers as you pulled, pushed, and prodded to force parts back into place.  
You heard the ding of another generator coming to life and felt a rush of relief. You finished your generator quickly enough, and headed to the window to see if you could find Claudette, or even Michael. At least if you could spot him you would know where not to go.  
You had barely poked your head up over the windowsill before you spotted your fellow survivor. She was sneaking around the side of the house you were in towards the front. If she could just make it a little further, she would be behind the cover of the shrubbery in the front of the yard. Just a few more feet…  
He materialized from the shadows as if he were made from the fog itself. With all the grace of a panther stalking its prey in the night, he fell upon her too fast for you to even warn her. You watched with an open mouth as the blade sailed through the air, reflecting the flashing red and blue lights as it went. Claudette shrieked when the weapon carved through her back, sending her sprawling across the grass.  
You could do nothing but watch as Michael lifted her with a hand under her chin into the air. You spotted the blade once more only to watch it sink into your friend with a wet sound. He withdrew it from her slowly, torturously, only to drive it right back into her frantically struggling form. She made a sickening gurgling sound and then was silent. Everything was silent except for the frantic pounding of your own heart  
You knew you should move. You needed to get out of the house and to the hatch that had surely appeared somewhere, but you could do nothing but stare down at the Shape as he threw your friend’s lifeless corpse to the ground. He loomed over the body, motionless in this mimicry of a suburban neighborhood.  
And then he raised his head.  
You could see nothing in the unfathomable blackness visible through the eye holes in the mask, but you knew that he was staring right back at you. You felt his freezing gaze stop you in place, and a thrill went through your paralyzed form. You knew then that things had never been more different than they were in this trial. Michael was done playing games with you.  
You could have sworn that you only blinked and he was gone, freeing you from your temporary paralysis. You made a beeline for the stairs, almost sliding past them in your rush. You found yourself frozen once more as you stared down the steps. Michael was at the bottom, and he was staring right back up at you. You turned and bolted back towards the window, but he was faster than you. You dove forward to throw yourself through the open portal, but you weren’t even halfway through when you felt a large hand grab the back of your shirt.  
Your back hit the ground hard, and before you could even think about scrambling to your feet a large boot was planted on your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs and effectively pinning you in place. You tried to squirm out from beneath, clawing at his ankle and pushing at his calf, but he may as well have been made of stone for how little he moved. You looked up to find the impassive mask that you had learned to fear staring back at you. His head was tilted slightly to one side as he watched you struggling.  
Then, faster than a lightning strike, one of his massive hands was around your throat and you were hoisted into the air.  
He finally had you. You kicked your legs wildly as you tried to pry at the iron grip he had around your throat. You knew your struggling was merely a futile last ditch effort in a war of attrition, but you couldn’t just go limp and wait for the cold steel of his knife to pierce your abdomen. But that never came.  
It all happened so fast. One moment you were dangling about a foot off the ground with your vision slowly going dark due to air loss, and the next you were pinned to the wall by a hard body. You saw him raise the large butcher’s knife above his head and you were sure it was about to find its home in your chest, but when it came arcing down towards you you felt no pain and instead found it embedded a few inches deep into the wall next to your head. Your eyes widened as you looked up at the ever impassive mask, his normally heavy breathing seemed to be even heavier now, the sound reverberating behind the rubber face close to panting. He pressed against you harder and his hips ground into yours.  
Oh. OH. Well, that was unexpected.  
You were at a loss. You had known there was tension between yourself and the killer, but you hadn’t realized that it was _this_ kind of tension. Yet here you were, pinned to a wall with him basically rutting against you, but as much as you wanted to you couldn’t find it in yourself to dislike the situation. In fact, your feelings on the matter were very much the opposite.  
You gasped and gripped Michael’s forearms when one of his strong thighs pressed between your legs, forcing you up onto your tiptoes just to reach the ground. You resisted the urge to grind yourself against him. He leaned into you more, masked face pressing into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You heard him inhale deeply, almost like he was taking in your scent, but you couldn’t imagine he could smell much more than latex from inside the white rubber. He seemed to realize the same thing.  
His calloused hands found their way to your hips, lifting you off his thigh and stepping back slightly. For one heart stopping moment you thought that he had changed his mind and was going to kill you, but as soon as that thought crossed your mind, you found yourself flipped around with your face shoved up against the old, peeling wallpaper. He shoved his leg back between your thighs, and you couldn’t help the heated sound that escaped you as he pressed against you with a bit more pressure than before. One of his hands left your hips and found its home against the back of your neck, ensuring that you could not move or turn your head.  
A rush of heat burned its way through your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this close to someone, let alone someone that could toss you around so easily. This was a terrible idea, possibly one of the worst you had ever had. You could smell the coppery scent of blood surrounding you, and you knew it had to belong to your friends, but his proximity had your head swimming and you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.  
The hand that wasn’t pinning you in place began to wander, pushing up your shirt to explore the heated skin of your stomach and ribs, continuing northward to force its way between your chest and the wall. He cupped your clothed breast in his rough hand, and you choked on the moan that bubbled up in your throat. He took note of this, and if you didn’t know better you would have sworn you heard a low sound of approval come from him.  
His hand slithered back down your abdomen to press firmly between your hips and drag you backwards so that your ass was directly against the burning, hardened length of him. You felt a spike of anxiety shoot through you. From what you could feel against your backside, he was big. It made sense, you supposed, the rest of him was huge so it makes sense that his dick would be the same. Though your mind cried out about logistics and potential pain, your traitorous body was abuzz with excitement and your cunt was near dripping at the thought of Michael inside you.  
You wiggled your hips back against him. He responded by tightening his hold on the nape of your neck and growling in your ear, the feral sound vibrating in his chest and through your body. You let loose a litany of wanton, needy sounds. You were completely overwhelmed by the heat coursing through you. You needed him, and you needed him now.  
“Please,” you begged, hoping he understood what you were asking.  
You could have cried with relief when his hand slipped around the front of your body and his nimble fingers found the clasp of your jeans. You were more than happy to help him drag the fabric barrier along with your panties down your hips and over your ass so that you could shimmy them down your legs and finally kick the offending material away. You expected him to immediately free himself from his bloodsoaked coveralls and push inside you.  
You were pleasantly and genuinely surprised when you felt his fingers swipe along your slickness. When he came to your entrance, he shoved a finger inside forcing you to bite down on the inside of your cheek to quiet a gasp. A second finger joined the first and you thrashed against his hold. It was too much. You were so full with only his fingers inside you. His hold on you never wavered, and the curling of his fingers had you panting. When the heel of his hand dragged against your clit you sucked in a breath and shuddered against him.  
As the minutes ticked by and his attentions to your weeping pussy continued, that oh so familiar tightness built in your core and sparks of pleasure shot through your limbs. You were so unbearably close. You babbled out pleas for him to let you have your release, crying his name and trying desperately to force his fingers deeper and his palm harder against you. You thought he would take mercy on you and finish you off, but just as you began to tip over that precipice into bliss, he withdrew.  
You whined at the loss as the pleasure ebbed, but the sound of a zipper being undone and fabric rustling filled you with renewed heat. You wanted to see him, but the vice grip on your neck dashed any hope of that happening. All disappointment was chased from your scattered thoughts when you felt the blunt head of him at your soaking entrance.  
Once he had lined himself up, his fingers grasped your hip with a strength that would surely leave bruises. He pulled you down hard onto him, and you keened. You had been more right than you realized about his size. If you thought you were full with just his fingers inside you, you were sure now that you would burst at the seams any second.  
His forehead found your shoulder, and you could feel the harsh puff of his heavy breaths escaping through the thin mouth of the mask. He drew back out of you with a brutally slow pace, the head of his cock dragging over your overwrought walls and drawing a moan from your lips. He slammed back in without warning and the air was forced from your lungs. With that he was off, setting a punishing pace and preventing you from ever really catching your breath.  
Every thrust forced your face harder against the wall, and you knew your cheek would be bruised by the end of this encounter. As he drilled you into the hard surface, you began to feel that same warmth coiling inside you, only this time it was approaching much more rapidly. You gasped and moaned, his name peppered into the pleased noises you were making. Before the anticipation and impatience could drive you crazy, you peeled one of your hands away from the wallpaper and let you fingers find your clit, rubbing quick circles around the bundle of nerves.  
You knew Michael was getting close based on the way his fingertips dug further into the flesh of your hip and his breathing hitched. He grunted, a sound deep in his throat that was impossibly loud. Then his hand at your neck disappeared, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor behind you with a slap. Before you could be surprised or even move, his now unmasked head was pressed into the back of yours. He inhaled deeply, nose buried in your now sweat slicked hair. His lips dragged across your nape, lingering at the neckline of your shirt.  
You wanted to see him, needed to see the face of the man that was fucking you like you had never experienced. You tried to push away from the wall, to turn your head. You weren’t sure if you would find that he was just as monstrous without the mask as when he had it on, or if he would look like a normal man, but you didn’t care. The curiosity was killing you.  
Michael realized immediately what you were doing, and before you could catch so much as a glimpse of his features, he bit down on the back of your neck. Hard.  
The feeling of his teeth on your neck, pinning you back in place more effectively than even his hand had, had you seeing stars. You yelped at the feeling, and then you clamped your eyes shut as the coil in your core burst and your orgasm ripped through you. Fireworks exploded behind your eyes and you couldn’t help but to sing his praises.  
Feeling you clench around his cock seemed to renew the chase for his own release. He now had the added advantage of use of his other hand. He snaked that arm around your waist to pull your lower half even closer to his pistoning hips. His pace was even more brutal than before, and your cum soaked pussy made obscene, wet sounds that drowned out your combined heavy breathing.  
You were sure his teeth broke skin when he bit down even harder. His thrusts stuttered and slowed. He growled against you and you felt warmth spilling inside you. His release was forced from your lower lips as he continued to thrust through his orgasm, trickling down your trembling thighs.  
For a moment you were shocked. Not moving even as he pulled out and stepped away from you. You took a moment to slow your breathing and ignore the odd feeling of the rapidly cooling mix of your fluids and his that spilled from your entrance.  
You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of rustling fabric. Finally, you were allowed to peel yourself away from the papered wall and turn to face him. You supposed that you shouldn’t have been surprised to find him completely put together, coveralls zipped and mask back in place, looking at you like he hadn’t just fucked the life out of you.  
Your legs shook as you bent to recover your jeans and underwear, never taking your eyes off of him. You dared a glance at the knife embedded in the wall beside you. It was deep enough that you doubted you would be able to pull it out if he closed in on you. You weren’t sure what would happen next. He had had his fun and now the two of you were locked in a staring match in the middle of the hall, only you found yourself at a disadvantage since you couldn’t see his eyes.  
Once you were fully clothed, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but he was still blocking both the stairs and the window. You doubted that you would be able to sprint past him before he could grab you and kill you the way he had killed the others, and you weren’t too keen on a knife to the stomach.  
Finally, he huffed quietly and stepped to the side, revealing the stairs to you. You looked at him with no small amount of surprised hesitancy. Was Michael really going to let you leave?  
When you didn’t move, he tilted his head and gestured towards the stairs. His meaning was clear. _Leave._  
Afraid he would change his mind, you darted forward and bound down the steps on unsteady legs. You were still shaking and could already feel the soreness setting in. Your feet creaked over the porch and crunched across the dry grass. You spotted the hatch in the middle of the street.  
As you approached it, you looked back at the house you had come from. Michael stood in the window through which you had watched him kill Claudette, as unmoving as a statue. You held his gaze for a moment. He had spared you this time. You somehow doubted it would be the same next time.  
You jumped into the blackness of the yawning hatch.


End file.
